Tale As Old As Time
by writersarereaders
Summary: (Soulmates) Steve and Bucky had their lives cut short in 1945 before they could find their missing Soulmate. Killiana is a modern-day girl who never felt like she belonged anywhere, often shunned for her multiple soul marks. Will she finally find her happily ever after with a couple of heroes from a time gone by? Or will alien invasions and government conspiracies keep them apart?
1. Chapter 1

Tale As Old As Time

Chapter 1: 1943

"Buck?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you awake?"

"Hmm."

"Bucky?"

"Punk, if you don't shut up…"

"Do you think we'll find her over here?"

Bucky sighed and turned on his side. They were a few miles out from the scout station of the 107th's base, and after having trekked at least 25 miles that day, Steve now decided he wanted to have a heart to heart. It wasn't like they had just escaped Hydra's clutches by the skin of their teeth or anything.

"What are you talking about?"

Steve played with his fingers.

Bucky groaned. "Now you have nothing to say?"

"No, it's just – "

"Steve, go to sleep," Bucky said as he rolled onto his other side.

Steve glanced over at his best guy. "You never thought about it?"

"Goodnight."

"Not even once?"

A loud fake snore answered his question.

Steve sighed and folded his arms behind his head. Looking up at the clear night sky, he couldn't help but wonder about the third and final piece of their triad. He wondered about what she'd look like, what she'd like to do. Would she be tall and thin, short and curvy? Would her eyes be as bright as morning sky or dark as an eclipse? Would she love them? Would she love him? Was she even a she?

Steve took a deep breath, still getting used to his new body. Yes, he was muscular and "handsome" now, but he still felt like that little guy from Brooklyn. He'd caught Bucky eying him with an odd look on his face more than a few times on the march back. Steve hoped Bucky liked the new version of him. Bucky wouldn't have to worry about him anymore. He could take care of himself now.

Closing his eyes, Steve tried to calm his racing thoughts long enough to catch a few hours of sleep before the dawn. Just as he started to drift off, Bucky spoke.

"I prayed that she isn't."

"What?" Steve asked opening his eyes.

"I said I prayed that our girl ain't here."

"Why?"

"'Cause it makes this damn war worth it if we get to go back home to her. She don't deserve to be here. Too good for this mess."

"Buck, we've lived in Brooklyn our whole lives. Ain't never seen her around."

"Then we'll travel across the fucking country until we find her."

"What if it's not a her?"

"She's out there. Just waiting for us to get off our asses."

"You sound sure."

"S'gonna take a strong, stubborn woman to deal with our sorry selves."

"Jerk."

"Punk."

"I thought you were sleeping."

"I am."

Steve smiled to himself and closed his eyes again, sending a silent prayer to join Bucky's, begging for some higher power to protect their girl until they could come home to her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Tale As Old As Time Chapter 2: 1944**

It had been nearly a year since Steve had rescued Bucky and the other Howlies. They had gone on countless missions, systematically knocking off one Hydra base after another. The press loved them. They all worked well together, had each other's backs without question. But at night, when everyone was sleeping or on watch, Steve and Bucky would fantasize about their girl.

On one particular night, after a giddy conversation about how they would buy a farm outside the city and work the land to provide for their girl, Steve had fallen asleep easily. Bucky, not so much.

He lay on his back, staring up at the stars in the sky, fists clenched at his sides. In the still of the night, Bucky's mind had no distraction to keep it occupied from the darkness that clung to him from his time with Zola.

Bucky hadn't been conscious all that often. And for that, he didn't know whether to be grateful or not. All he really knew was that when Steve had dragged him out of that godforsaken building, it was the first breath of fresh he'd had in several months time.

He felt his muscles start to tremble and cursed.

Steve shifted. Bucky froze. When Steve settled on his side, Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. Steve didn't need to see this.

Bucky clenched his teeth. He knew it was going to be a bad episode, a very bad episode. A cry slipped past his lips, too silent for anyone else in camp to hear. But Steve wasn't just a regular man. Not anymore.

"Buck?"

He bit his tongue, drawing blood. The copper flavor started to fill his mouth, mixing with the excess saliva he was trying to swallow.

Bucky heard Steve sit up and call out to him again, but his muscles had locked so tight that he could not move even the slightest inch. Hands landed on his shoulders and shook him hard. But still he remained still. His blood boiled as it ran through his veins, curdling with each cycle. Bucky's eyes flew open, the whites stained a bright red in contrast to the icy blue irises that stared unseeing up at Steve's face.

"Bucky? Wake up! What's wrong?" Steve shouted.

His hearing was slowly returning, the sound of his soulmate's voice piercing through the fog that held him hostage. He felt a tear … or several … slip down his cheeks.

"Bucky!"

Finally, he was able to take a gasping breath, the very movement causing his lungs to contract painfully as if a vice was clamped around them. Steve's hands clasped his face as he murmured pleas for him to return.

"Come on, Buck. That's it," Steve said, taking one of Bucky's hands and holding it to his chest. "Just breathe with me. I'll take care of you. Just breathe, dammit."

Bucky struggled to do as his soulmate asked. But it was so hard. He just wanted relief. The darkness that had spotted his vision promised such sweet solace. Just a taste, Bucky thought. Just a taste, and it'll be all better.

"No, no, no," Steve said, smacking Bucky's cheek. "Look at me." He waited until Bucky refocused on him. "You look at me."

Slowly, Bucky felt the fire retreat from the nerves in his body. Steve held tight, never once faltering in the strength of his grip on his soulmate. Neither knew how much time had actually passed, but when Bucky became more aware of his surroundings, he realized that they were not alone. The noise had roused the Commandos from their sleep, and now they were all surrounding the Captain and the Sergeant, providing a protective barrier from the rest of the world.

Bucky felt his cheeks heat up and tried to turn his head.

"No," Steve said. "You look at me."

Bucky ground his teeth at his mate's stubbornness, but shifted his eyes to Steve's bright blue orbs. Tears filled Steve's eyes, Bucky felt his own eyes water in return.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked.

Bucky nodded, the lump in his throat blocking any words that might have been ready on his tongue. Steve didn't look convinced, but before he could pester his mate with more questions, Dum Dum spoke up.

"Sarge is good. Trust me," Dum Dum said, "it's not the first bad dream this pretty face has had."

Bucky released the breath he didn't know he was holding as Steve aimed his questions at the former strong man with the bowler cap. His secret was safe for now. Bucky squirmed in Steve's grip, signaling that he wanted to get up. Steve furrowed his brow but backed off. Sitting up, Bucky scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to fully regain his bearings before attempting to get to his feet.

Steve called out to him.

"I'm fine, punk," Bucky said.

"I don't think –"

"I know you don't. That's why you stormed into a highly guarded Hydra base and dragged our sorry asses out without any backup or plan."

"Bucky..."

"Steve, please." Bucky pushed himself to his feet, taking a moment to orient his balance. "Dum Dum's right. Just a nightmare."

"I've seen you have a nightmare before. You never reacted like this."

Bucky snorted. "War zones are a hell of a lot different than those back alleys in Brooklyn, punk."

"I'm not blind."

"I didn't say you were."

"Then why are you lying to me."

"I'm not. I told you. It was just a nightmare."

Steve placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. "I don't know what happened to you at that place," he said. "Every other man in your unit that was captured gave explicit detail about what they saw and what they heard. Even Dernier, though no one understood a word he said."

Dernier let use a string of French phrases that, while only Jones could fully comprehend them, every other man understood the joking offense he took to Steve's comment. Soft chuckles filled the air when Dernier stuck his nose up and turned his back on the team.

"If you gents will excuse me," Falsworth said, "I'd like to finish my watch, so that I might catch some sleep before the sun rises."

As the Commandos dispersed to their tents and watches around the camp, Bucky was left to fend for himself under Steve's gaze. As he stretched his arms above his head, he felt his soulmate's stare boring holes into the back of his head.

"Let it go, Stevie."

Steve sighed. "I just don't get it."

"What's there to figure out? It was a nightmare."

"Okay, let's say that it was."

"Now you're getting it."

"What was it about?"

Bucky paused in his stretching and did not answer. Steve took the opportunity to continue pressing the issue. Something had happened to his soulmate. Something was still happening to him. And that did not sit well with him. Not one bit.

"Was it the war? Was it about stuff when you first came over here? Was it Hydra?"

"Shut up, punk."

"Hydra. Okay." Steve walked up behind Bucky. "What did you see? What did they tell you? What did they do to you?"

"I mean it, Stevie." Bucky clenched his fists at his sides. "That's enough."

"I found you strapped down on a medical examination table, Buck. Now tell what the hell happened!"

"Nothing!"

"Stop lying!"

Bucky spun around and grabbed Steve by the shoulders, yanking him closer so that they were now chest to chest. "You want to know the truth? Huh? You think knowing the truth will make you feel better?"

Steve put his hands on Bucky's waist and squeezed. "You're damn right I do," he said through clenched teeth.

"I don't know what they did!"

Bucky's words echoed in the stunned silence that followed. Breathing hard, he lowered his voice and continued. "I don't know what they fucking did to me because I wasn't conscious." He sniffed. "And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. Not you." He stared unblinkingly into Steve's wide eyes, those questioning eyes that begged him to spill everything. Bucky moved his hands to Steve's face, cupping his jaw and rubbing his thumbs along the blonde's cheeks. "I couldn't bare you not loving me anymore. Can't lose you, punk."

Steve said nothing, but pulled his soulmate into a full body embrace and buried his head in the crook of his neck. Bucky smelled like gunpowder, metal, and Brooklyn. Bucky still smelled like home.

Bucky felt tears gather in his eyes again and cursed himself for being so weak.

"Love you," Steve mumbled. "Love you so much."

Bucky gasped and bit his lip, desperate to silence the cries that were trying to burst forth.

"Always love you. Til the end of the line," Steve said, his voice just above a whisper.

"Love you, too, punk. Til the end of the line."

"Gotta get you home safe so we can find our girl."

Bucky swallowed hard. "Think she'll love me? Like this?"

Steve finally lifted his head from the comfort of Bucky's shoulder. "'Course she will. Pretty face like yours?"

Bucky managed to crack a smile, however fleeting it had been.

"Stevie, I –"

"I know. I'm sorry."

A comfortable silence settled over the lovers as they moved in tandem back to their tent and bedrolls. Once tucked in as much as possible for the rest of the night, they rolled on their sides to face one another. Crickets chirped and the slight breeze rustled through the foliage. Tomorrow, they would make their final trek to the Hydra base, take it out, then begin the journey back to their headquarters in London.

Bucky let out a loud yawn, feeling his jaw muscles stretch and pop because of it.

"Close your eyes, Buck. You need to rest," Steve said.

"Aye aye, Captain."

"You're never going to let that go, are you?"

Bucky simply smiled and closed his eyes.

"Jerk."

"Punk."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: This should have been in Chapter 1. I don't own any recognizable characters or plot points. I only own my OC.

AN: Thanks to everyone who has favorited and followed this story. Thank you to those who have also taken the time to write a review. This is a new venture for me. I've been interested in fanfiction for a while now, so I wanted to try my hand at it. This chapter was difficult to write. I didn't want to only go by the movieverse, but still stay true to the story most people know and love. The next chapter will finally introduce my female character. This story will follow some parts of the MCU, but otherwise it will be somewhat of an AU.

And any mistakes are my own. I don't have a Beta.

* * *

 **Chapter 3: 1945**

Cold.

That's all Bucky could feel as he lay there nearly buried in the frozen ground under the snow. Every breath pained his lungs. Every blink of eyes made him want to cry. Every flinch of his muscles was agony. All he could think about was Steve. His Stevie.

How had things gone so wrong? Where was Stevie? Where was _he_?

If there was ever a moment when he thought he was fucked, this was surely it.

Did anyone know where he was? When was Steve going to come back for him? Did something happen to him on that train?

The sounds of boots crunching on top of the snow and ice reached Bucky's frozen ears.

He tried to laugh, a thin smile managing to spread its way across his lips. They had finally come. They found him. He was going to be okay.

As the noise grew louder, the voices became clearer. And that's when Bucky realized something was wrong. Something was very wrong. It was a language he had not heard before. Between all the Commandos and his and Steve's own collection of languages, he had never heard this particular one in person before.

Russian.

Bucky tried to speak, but his voice caught in his throat due to the harsh wind and freezing temperature. He wanted to crawl away, to find some sort of shelter to hide him from enemy eyes, but his body would not obey his frantic thoughts.

Suddenly, the voices stopped.

A single pair of footsteps moved closer to where he lay, exposed like an open wound.

"Well, look who it is."

He knew that voice.

"Sergeant Barnes has returned."

Not again.

"This is a most fortunate event, I must say."

Bucky wanted to cry. Not again, please God, not again.

He heard the gremlin, Zola, order the others to bring him along. They were also ordered to not damage him anymore than he already was. Bucky wondered what Zola meant by that?

He felt them grab at his body and start to drag him along behind them. Bucky watched the clouds in the sky above in a daze. The gray and white swirled together, ominous yet strangely comforting. When the muscles in his neck grew too tired to hold his head up, his chin dropped to his chest.

Bucky's eyes widened to the point of pain.

He screamed.

Most of his left arm was missing. Gone. Blood trailed after his prone form.

Bucky's vision started to swim.

Where was Steve? Where was his team?

He had to get back to camp. They must be waiting for him. Or they were preparing to search for him. Right? He needed to stay where he was so they could find him.

Bucky started to struggle with all his might against his captors. He kicked and jerked, trying desperately to free himself.

More shouting from the Russians that were attempting to take him as a POW, before one of them kneeled down beside him and placed his hand over his mouth.

Bucky couldn't understand what the man was yelling at him, but he could guess that he wanted him to shut up. But Bucky wouldn't give in. Brooklyn boys don't take nothing from no one. He'd show them.

That was the last thought before a blow struck him on his temple, causing his world to go fuzzy before it went completely black.

* * *

"Dr. Zola, What is this specimen you've brought me?"

The little man took off his glasses and wiped them with a corner of his lab coat. The larger man in front of him was more intimidating than Schmidt.

"I'm waiting," the man said, his voice tinged with impatience.

"He is an American soldier, a sergeant."

"I can see that."

Dr. Zola gulped and forced his gaze to remain on his former patient laid out on the examination table to his left. "I was working on him before, back in '43. His unit was captured and held at a facility under Heir Schmidt's –"

A hard smack jerked Dr. Zola's head to the side. He raised his hand to his cheek in shock.

"You know better than to mention that name in my presence. Get to the point."

The small man swallowed hard, but managed to continue. "Sergeant Barnes here was the only one to survive my initial tests. Captain America," Zola said, nearly spitting out the name, "broke in and ruined my plans before I could complete Phase 1. But now that the good sergeant has returned, there is renewed hope that I may continue my work. If it pleases you, of course."

A heavy silence fell over the room. The beeps of the machines hooked up to the body echoed in the uncomfortable atmosphere.

"And what would be in it for me?" the tall man asked.

Dr. Zola paused in his fidgeting. "The tool you will need to bend the world to your will. A fist, a new, more powerful fist than anyone could have imagined."

"And this man," the tall man said, moving closer to the examination table, "will be capable of such a feat?"

A wicked grin spread across Dr. Zola's face. "And much, much more."

The tall man nodded once, then turned on his heel and walked out of the room. "You may proceed."

* * *

Steve pulled his head up from the sink full of cold water with a gasp. Coughing, he tried to catch his breath. He blinked once, twice. It was still the same face he saw in the tiny mirror above the sink in the bathroom. That same face with the dark circles under the eyes, the gray-tinted skin, the limp hair, the hollowed cheeks. He knew there was nothing wrong with him physically.

It was his heart.

It was broken.

It was his soulmate.

He was gone.

Steve watched as tears filled his eyes and trickled down his face. But he did not feel them.

Bucky.

His Bucky.

Gone.

He hung his head and tightened his grip on the porcelain sink. It cracked easily under his enhanced strength. But he didn't care. Steve was no longer whole, no longer living. He died the moment that Bucky fell from the train.

A knock on the door startled him from his morbid thoughts. Steve hurriedly wiped the evidence of his pain from his face and searched for something to cover the large imprints of his hands in the sink.

"Steve, are you all right?"

He stopped his fidgeting and sighed. He knew Peggy wouldn't go away until he opened the door. The last time he had locked himself away in a room, she shot out the handle and chain lock, threatening to shoot him in the head the next time he did that. They still had a war to win, she had said, and he needed to win for Bucky.

Turning the doorknob, he kept his head down and waited for the inevitable lecture he was sure was coming.

"Oh, Steve," Peggy said, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He held still, ignoring the twitching in his muscles.

"It's okay," Peggy said, "Colonel Phillips isn't here. Howard is busy in his lab." She looked up at him. "It's okay to not be strong right now."

And in that moment, Steve Rogers, the Captain America, broke. His soulmate was gone. His best friend was gone. He couldn't even think about what would happen should their other soulmate appear and want to know about Bucky. What would he tell them? Would they still want to be with just him? Was that even possible in a triad bond? The tears came heavy and fast. But Peggy made no comment, no attempt to pull away from this much needed embrace.

After a few minutes had passed, Steve was able to collect himself enough to pull away from Peggy. He tried to apologize, but the words wouldn't come.

"When a soldier cries," she said, "there is nothing he has to apologize for."

Nodding, he took one last deep breath then finally met her eyes. "I'm ready," he said.

Peggy stared hard at him. She bit the inside of her cheek then turned on her heel. Steve followed. She explained the final details of their plan as they made their way to where the rest of the team was waiting.

Steve swung his leg over his motorcycle. Closing his eyes, he pulled all the pain and rage at Bucky's death to the surface, revved the engine, and shot out of the hanger like a bat out of hell. He didn't look back, knowing that his Commandos and the rest of the unit, Peggy and Colonel Phillips included, would soon follow his lead.

* * *

Steve stood in disbelief for a moment, trying to understand how the Tesseract had vaporized the Red Skull in a blazing column of light.

The insistent beeping and screaming of the plane's alarms echoed all around him. He barely registered the noise.

His legs took him to the pilot's seat. His eyes took in the shattered control panel. He gripped the joy stick and pressed the com button, hoping that someone on the other side would answer.

Peggy's voice came through.

He smiled. A strange peace had settled within his chest.

She tried to get him to listen.

He told her he didn't want others to die.

She begged him to let Howard find him a landing spot.

He told her he still didn't know how to dance.

She swallowed hard.

He heard the tears in her voice and told her not to cry, that everything would be all right. That he would be fine.

He would be with Bucky.

She asked how that reunion would go with a hiccup, saying that he still didn't know how to dance.

He said that Bucky had been teaching him for some time, that he'd practice before they saw each other again.

Peggy told him that she would make sure to wear her best at The Stork Club a week from then. Maybe she'd stand a chance at dancing with them for a song or two.

Steve smiled. The ocean was so blue. He promised that he and Bucky would save her a dance.

The radio cut out.

Peggy begged for him to answer.

Silence was her only response.


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: Thanks for all the reviews and follows. It seems like I'm doing something right with this story so far. This chapter was pretty difficult to write. I don't usually write female characters well, so if you feel like it, do send an honest review of what you think of Killiana. I have no Beta, so the mistakes are my own. Finally, I don't own anything or anyone recognizable, just my OC._

* * *

 **Chapter 4: 2012**

Being a New Yorker, Killiana had thought she had seen it all. But trust the world to prove her wrong at every turn in her life.

Of course, aliens pouring out of a spacial and temporal rip in the sunny sky over Manhattan would happen while she was on her way to interview at Stark Industries.

This job was supposed to finally allow her to quit working at the coffee house. That is, if she had made it to her interview. But a giant monster dragon/worm thingy just had to fall from the sky after getting blasted by Iron Man, cutting off her only way to Stark Tower. Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming in panic like everyone else around her, Killiana exited the cab she had splurged on and started running in the opposite direction of the giant dead alien in the middle of the street.

Before she could make it more than several yards, a blast hit her from the right, sending her flying through the air. She felt her back slam into the store front of some building, the window easily shattering from the force of her body. Hitting the floor hard, Killiana tried to gasp in as much air as possible, her breath having been knocked out of her from the abrupt impact. Coughing, she tasted a thick, tangy liquid in her mouth. She turned her head to spit it out and froze.

Red.

Blood.

She tried to roll over. Nothing.

She tried to bend her legs. Nothing.

She tried to move her arms. Nothing.

She was in big trouble.

Killiana attempted to scream for help but found her mouth filled with blood again, forcing her to spit once more. Tears filled her eyes. This was supposed to be a good day, a happy day. Her life was supposed to change for the better. And now it was over.

An inhuman roar echoed in her ears above the explosions of the on-going battle and screams of the terrified people in the street still trying to find safety. Killiana knew it was too close to her, but there was nothing she could do. She couldn't move. She couldn't even feel some parts of her body.

If she could have chuckled in that moment, watching the alien creature climb over the fallen debris toward her, she would have. A life barely lived ending before knowing the joy of finding her soulmates. She had always known she had two. She didn't know how she knew, but she knew there were two men out there for her. That feeling grew even stronger last year. Killiana just assumed that she was getting closer to finding one or both of them.

And now she would never know.

The alien's grotesque face appeared over the rubble that remained of the store front she had just crashed through. It's tongue slithered out from between its pointed teeth, its breath more rancid than an overheated trash heap.

She closed her eyes and imagined what her soulmates looked like. She had always pictured them as tall and muscular, but not in an overly built body builder way. Just large enough for her to cuddle into and hide away from the world, to feel protected but not smothered. She imagined them with opposite coloring – one dark, the other light. But for some reason, she always saw blue eyes. Sure, one pair was still darker than the other, but the blue was consistent. How she longed to have seen them just once, even if it was from a distance. Just to know that she had finally found them, to see them safe.

Gritting her teeth, she waited for the final blow that would end her existence.

A deafening vibration sounded all around her, followed by the distinct sounds of the creature crying out in pain before being silenced by something.

Killiana kept her eyes closed. She was afraid to look.

"Ma'am? Are you all right?"

The voice was deep but sounded out of breath.

"Ma'am?"

Killiana opened her eyes, but she had difficulty focusing on the face in front of her. She felt warm hands on her cheeks. His voice calmed her racing heart.

"I'll send help, I promise."

He was going to help her. That was nice, she thought.

"But I can't stay here right now. I marked the rubble so the EMTs will be able to find you."

He sounded so handsome. She wished her eyes would cooperate so that she could see her savior.

"I swear you'll be okay. I'll find you again. But I need you to stay alive. Deal?"

Killiana managed enough energy to nod her head, but even that slight movement sent her vision out of focus even more. Her eyelids started to close. His hands tapped against her cheeks.

"Ma'am, can you stay alive until I come back?"

She moaned and assumed he took that to be her agreement to his deal. She felt his hands gently guide her head to rest on the ground. He mumbled something to her, but she was already letting the closing darkness take over.

* * *

When Killiana opened her eyes again, she was greeted with a painfully bright light and a wash of white. An incessant beeping thudded in time with the pounding in her head. Every muscle and tendon in her body felt as if it had been run through a wood chipper then beaten with a spiked mallet. She swallowed and winced at the raw fire that burned in her throat. She tried to call for help, but only managed to send herself into a coughing fit that wracked her entire body. The commotion she made brought a bunch of people to her, their voices all mingling together in a strange cacophony.

"Miss, can you hear me? Do you know where you are?"

All Killiana could think about in that moment was the pain she was in. How was she not dead yet, she wondered.

"It's okay," said the male voice again. "Try to take deep breaths. That's it."

She tried to do as the man said, she really did. But it just hurt so much.

"Miss, I need you to calm down. You're safe now. You're in a hospital. Everything is going to be fine."

She had managed to calm herself some, but it apparently wasn't enough for the doctors and nurses around her. She heard them call for some complicated medicine with too many syllables to pronounce. A few seconds passed by before she felt her muscles start to turn to jelly. I hate jelly, she thought.

"Miss, I need to you to close your eyes and count to ten for me. Do you think you can do that?"

Killiana nodded slowly and then closed her eyes. She only made it to the count of two before she felt something being pulled – painfully – from her throat. A severe coughing fit overcame her, her throat burning as if it was sand in the desert. As the coughing subsided, Killiana opened her eyes again and tried to take in her surroundings. She had figured out she was in a hospital room, but she didn't know how she got there. The last thing she remembered was the man from the street telling her to stay alive until he came back. Did he bring her here? What happened to him?

The doctor came into her line of vision again and pulled up a seat next to her bed. He spoke slowly and with a low tone as he started to explain everything to her. Killiana tried to focus on him, but the bright, harsh lights were too painful. Thankfully, though, the doctor noticed this and signaled for a nurse to dim the lights for her. Once she was able to see somewhat clearly, he continued.

"You've been hurt pretty bad, Ms. McGowan. You have several broken ribs – some of which punctured your lung, your leg has been broken in several places, and your shoulder was dislocated. That's not counting the lacerations, bruising, and sprained muscles. You're quite frankly lucky to be alive."

Killiana groaned.

"You don't have to say anything right now. And I'd highly suggest you don't even think about moving any part of your body without assistance. You've been in a medically-induced coma for the past few days, but now that you're breathing on your own, we can start to move forward with your recovery. It's going to be a while before you get out of here, but we'll see to it that you make a full recovery."

She blinked lazily.

"Is there anyone I can call for you?"

She turned her head away from the doctor, ashamed that she could not answer that simple question.

He cleared his throat to dislodge the awkward silence that had settled in the room. "Well, if you think of anyone, just let one of the nurses or myself know, and we will contact them for you."

With that, he gently patted her hand and exited the room, turning off the lights as he went.

Killiana laid there in the silence. She wanted to cry but could not find the energy to do so. Whatever they had injected her with through the IV had started to work almost immediately, and at this point, she had to concentrate just to keep her eyes open. She sighed. That question should have been an easy answer. But Killiana McGowan didn't have anyone to call that would rushing to her bedside to take care of her. Her parents had retired down in Florida, and they were all about themselves. She didn't blame them at all, though. She loved her parents. But they were older when she was born, in their 40s. They had worked hard all their lives and earned everything they had and continued to earn with smart invests and honest business practice. She couldn't call them up here to take her full-time. She knew she'd need around the clock care when she was released. Killiana refused to put them through that.

Friends... well, that was another story. Killiana had always been a unique child. Her parents had homeschooled her, preferring to teach their daughter actual knowledge that would be useful instead of sending her to a school where the only thing she would learn would be how to take a test. But her high intelligence had come with a price – she only had one friend her age. And seeing as how Maggie was currently out of the country on a business trip, she was not an option.

So, that left her all alone. For now.

Unable to resist the pull of the medication any longer, Killiana finally surrendered to the blank oblivion.

* * *

After another surprisingly delicious meal at the shawarma place Tony had raved about, the newly formed Avengers retreated to what was left of Stark Tower. Some levels of the private living quarters had not been destroyed by Loki's attack, so for the time being, their little ragtag group would be setting up camp in the livable areas. They, minus Tony, had been staying in S.H.I.E.L.D. stations as they helped with the clean-up of the city.

"All right," Tony said. "Me and Pepper get first pick since this is my tower, and I own it, and she told me to tell you all that, but I would have said it anyway."

The others were looking around at the damaged common room, completely ignoring his rant.

"Just no soliciting prostitutes unless they pass a background check. Cap, this means you. I know it's been a while, but seriously, don't even think about it."

Steve blushed a bright red and shook his head. He may not have known the man very long, but he could already tell he was going to have to deal with him the same way he dealt with Howard – kid gloves.

"Super spies, you can have your own room or rooms. Whatever's left, I really don't know. But remember, mine will be the biggest and the most comfy because Pepper said so."

Natasha and Clint rolled their eyes but slinked away from the group, mumbling to each other as they left.

"Big Guy, there's a nice room near the R&D rooms. Don't touch my suits. But you can play with the other stuff. We're going to be best friends. I told you that you'd love it."

Bruce nodded his head and pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. He wished those left a goodnight before retiring to his designated area.

"Point break..." Tony paused, wondering if he actually had a bed left that was big enough for the god of thunder.

"Do not worry, Man of Iron," Thor said. "I must return to the holding facility. I do not wish to leave my brother for too long."

Tony nodded, saying that it was a good idea. "I was going to suggest that anyway."

Thor chuckled and slapped Tony on the back – hard. "You are truly a genius among mortals, my friend. It is like you were reading my mind." He then walked over to the shattered window wall, swung his hammer, and flew away to S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters.

"All right, Capsicle –"

"Don't call me that, Tony."

"You can pick whatever room you want, as long as it's not mine."

"I wasn't going to –"

"Seriously," Tony said, "Pepper will be mad. Bruce turns green, but Pepper turns red. Trust me. Not going there. No."

Steve sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for his old friend's son to finish his speech. Another minute or two passed before Steve cleared his throat. There was only so much the Captain could take, even with his legendary patience.

"Tony?"

"Yes, my spangled friend?"

Steve took a deep breath then asked the question that had been weighing on his mind the past few days. "Do you know a way I can find someone? Someone who was injured in the attack?"

Tony's eyebrows jumped to his hairline. "Do you know who I am?" When Steve's face remained blank, Tony rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course I can."

"Even if I don't know the person's name?"

"Okay," Tony said. "Let's try this again." He reached out his hand. "Hello, my name is Tony Stark. Genius, millionaire, playboy, philanthropist. That means I'm really smart and can figure anything out."

Steve chose to ignore the jab at his intelligence. He was beginning to question how this was Howard's son. Maybe Howard experimented on himself before Tony was conceived. He wouldn't put it past the man who voluntarily flew him into enemy territory on several occasions during the war.

"I don't know her name, but I can give you a general description. The only thing I know for certain was where I left her."

Tony grinned. "Her."

"Yes," Steve said. "She was tiny, only about 5'4'', no more. She was covered in debris, but her hair looked to be a dark color. Her eyes were brown, like really dark. Almost like the sky after twilight."

Tony bit his lip as Steve continued to describe the woman he wanted to find. He knew J.A.R.V.I.S. was recording all of the information and designing a search protocol based off of the Captain's details. But this was just too good to ignore. The Man-with-the-Plan, Mr. frozen in ice for nearly 70 years, Mr. only woke up yesterday – not really, but still – was interested in a girl. A woman. A female. He'd have to read over the files again, but from what he remembered, this guy couldn't string two coherent words together in front of a woman who wasn't his mother.

Finally tuning back into the one-sided conversation, Tony nodded and assured the Captain that he'd be able to find this girl.

Steve's brow furrowed. "But you didn't take any notes."

Tony rolled his eyes. Seriously, this is what he had to put up with for his charitable good deed? "J.A.R.V.I.S. took care of it. He's running a scan now based off your description. If you remember anything else, though, tell him. Brown hair and eyes last seen in a coffee house with a destroyed storefront is vague. This is New York, after all."

Steve nodded, wanting to just fall into a bed face first after a long day of rescue and recovery missions. Tony would continue to talk, whether or not someone was there. As long as he could help him keep his promise, Steve would deal with it.

After that, though, he thought, I'm moving back to Brooklyn.


End file.
